


A Wake For John Sheridan

by silveradept



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 10:30:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11895834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveradept/pseuds/silveradept
Summary: Susan helps Delenn grieve after Sheridan goes beyond the rim. Everyone learns a lot more about the ISA president than they had before.





	A Wake For John Sheridan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badger79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badger79/gifts).



"It's called sitting shiva," Ivanova explained. "You spend seven days mourning the dead by not leaving the house, not doing work, and saying prayers. The idea is that the family members are so distraught with grief that they can't do anything but wail and pray for the soul of the deceased to find heaven. And what better place to celebrate his memory than on the very station he used to create his legacy? Soon they'll both be gone, so we had better get to remembering." Ivanova knew she was talking too much, but talking was preferable to actually sitting still, because sitting still meant thinking, and she didn't want to think about what had happened. "Between you and me, of course, I suspect he went where all the First Ones and the older races went, just so that he could shake his head at us from some other plane of existence. I tried to get a candle to burn, but Zack said no, even when I tried to pull rank on him. We could make do with a vidscreen picture of it instead, except vidscreens can be mirrors, and those are all supposed to be covered. Between that and trying to find appropriate furniture, I realized that we couldn't do it properly at all in the time we had."

"That is not unlike rituals I underwent to become a full member of the religious caste," Delenn replied. "I am not sure John would approve of silent contemplation on our transient nature. And he was not Jewish. The gesture is appreciated, though."

"We can do the next best thing, though - a wake. While the idea is the same -- sitting in quiet mourning, sharing stories, most of the people on this station would find the idea itself to be abhorrent, so the one thing you can count on them to do when someone else is grieving is to--" 

A chime sounded indicating visitors at the Ambassador's quarters. Delenn went to open the doors and saw several of the command staff politely waiting with what looked to be covered trays of food and portable containers for beverages.

"--show up in droves with food and drinks and turn any serious mourning into a party," Ivanova finished. "At least, that's how all the funerals I've seen have ended up by the time they were wound up."

Delenn realized that there was still so much about human culture that she had yet to learn about. Each of the guests greeted her, found places for their food and beverages and seats for themselves.

"Thank you for coming," she said, smiling at them. "John would have been pleased to know how many of you came to see him and pay your respects."

Garibaldi stifled a snicker behind his hand. Ivanova had forgiven him, eventually, for everything he had done while under Bester's control. It had taken a lot of time, drinking (without booze, since Garibaldi had gotten clean of his addiction), and sparring before she had felt like he was forgiven enough.

"Is something amusing, Mr. Garibaldi?" Delenn asked, a frown creeping on her face.

"Sorry," Garibaldi said, trying to regain his composure. "It's just that this tells me of a story John told me about the time he was captured by Clarke's men."

"That does not seem appropriate for this ceremony," Delenn said, her frown increasing.

"Oh, God, no, it's not," Garibaldi said, stifling a laugh, "but if I don't tell it now, I'm going to be laughing while you're trying to be serious and it's only going to get worse."

"Very well, then," Delenn said, sitting.

"So, in between sessions, they always rushed him from one place to another, and they fed him this poor gruel. If he was lucky, he said, you could find the single piece of potato in it. He said it always gave him gas. And so, everyone there is always so damn serious, because they're getting to break him, and one session, apparently, they bumped him just a little too much while they were in the interrogation room. John's not focusing on their attempts, when he finally decides he can't stand it any more, and right after this guy finishes a speech about how resistance is futile and yada yada, he just lifts a cheek and--" Garibaldi blew air into his hands just so, providing an extremely loud and accurate imitation of a serious bout of flatulence. 

"They tried to stay serious after that, but apparently the smell was so bad everyone but Sheridan had to clear the room. And after that, he said, any time he felt like they were getting to him, he remembered farting hard enough to mess up the inquisition, and it gave him strength. Every now and then, he said, he'd rip a real one just to keep the memory fresh." Garibaldi grinned and continued to laugh quietly.

Delenn didn't move, and seemed even more upset than before. Zack, on the other hand, was twitching, trying not to be the first one to laugh.

"That's not funny," he said, trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

"Yes it is," Ivanova found herself saying, "but that's not the best funny story you can tell about him. Remember when Rebo and Zooty were on the station and...John," Ivanova said, a little hesitantly, "did the whole routine in front of Londo as a way of trying to get him to understand? Oh, it was funny, but in the way of when someone is trying to imitate something great and can't stop laughing because they know the punchline. And Londo is just sitting there, politely trying to get it, looking for all the world like he thinks Sheridan's lost his mind!" Susan smiled at the memory, while Delenn looked at her as if to ask why she was encouraging this kind of behavior.

"I'll drink to that," Garibaldi said. Zack grabbed his cup, declared "Security Check," and sniffed it exaggeratedly, prompting more laughter from the assembled.

The stories continued well on into the night, along with the drinks, and eventually, most of the food that had been brought was consumed. Delenn learned a lot more about her husband's life before the station than he had talked to her about. Occasionally she contributed a story about them together and many of the loving things they did, but it always seemed to be followed by another story about an act of buffoonery by John, or some other ridiculous, and apparently funny, situation they had been in with John.

Mourning, to her, had always consisted of telling the valorous and virtuous deeds of the deceased, but humans appeared to have an equal, if not greater, interest in making the decreased out to be silly or stupid. Humans had always been a complex species, that she had known, but even the things she thought were consistent in their culture turned out to have great variances. Several of the staff learned on each other as they stumbled back toward their beds to sleep off the alcohol they had consumed.

It was a slight relief, then, on the second day, when some members of the religious caste arrived to her quarters, offering her the opportunity to practice her own rituals of grief away from prying eyes, while Susan stood outside and ensured they remained uninterrupted.

Afterward, the Narn arrived to pay their respects. Many had words of the valiant warrior that had led them in glorious battle after battle against their enemies. Others saw him as a religious figure, intimately related to G'kar, who they looked up to as a leader. They treated her with what they felt was the reverence due to someone so close to an important focus. They, too, drank and ate in memory, but by the end of the day, Delenn worried that perhaps only G'kar had seen John as anything more complex than as a commander of armies. Noting her distress, Ivanova made sure the Narn understood it was time to move the party somewhere else, and then took a cot for herself, to make sure Delenn wasn't alone.

The third day, after the morning ritual with her caste, saw the arrival of the delegation from the Centauri Empire. Emperor Cotto had grown into the role much more swiftly than anyone had anticipated, given his humble beginnings as an aide to the previous Emperor, then-Ambassador Mollari.

"President Sheridan was always kind to me, even when he was the Captain. He probably could have done much worse to me when I hacked up the Drazi fruit stand all those years ago. Did anyone talk about the Rebo and Zooty skit?"

"I did," Ivanova said, sheepishly.

"Did you ever hear what happened afterward? Londo thought it might be diplomatically advantageous to understand the Captain's sense of humor, so he ordered the whole series and watched it! I had never seen Londo try so hard to understand." Vir laughed hard himself. "And the best part of it was listening to Londo muttering under his breath about comedy before trying to demonstrate how well he got it to me. I had so much fun, then, probably more than any other time while I was stationed here. I have President Sheridan to thank for all those happy, hilarious memories."

Delenn frowned. "Does everyone remember my husband as some sort of comedian?" she asked Vir.

"No, no. I'm sorry, Delenn." Vir fell silent for a bit before continuing. 

"I think we tell these stories because we want everyone to remember the whole of the person. Everyone got to experience President Sheridan, military commander, war hero, politician, diplomat, and leader. He's going to be a legend for generations to come. We know that person. What we don't know is who he was when he wasn't being the legend. The history of this station will tell us all about the bold deeds and the grand proclamations. It's probably not going to talk about the fact that when the station had the short-lived store, President Sheridan made sure he had one of those Londo dolls kept behind so that he could gift it to me."

Ivanova nearly spat out the drink she had just taken.

"Why would he have done that?" Delenn asked, seemingly oblivious to Ivanova's reaction.

"He told me, when he gave it to me, that it was to be a reminder that while Londo often looked and acted tough, he often lacked the...attributes to be truly cruel, and that he was glad I was there to encourage Londo's 'better nature'. 

Vir raised his glass. "To President Sheridan. May his memory persist." Ivanova grinned broadly and raised her own in salute.

The Centauri brought, and consumed most of, a large amount of food and drink as well, giving Delenn insight as to why the humans and Centauri got along so well. Seeing the amount of food left behind over the three days, Delenn worried that she would not have sufficient space for everything. Ivanova waved off Delenn's concerns, displaying a portable refrigeration unit that she had brought in at some point during the day.

"You're supposed to be talking about what a fine man and a credit to the human race John was," Ivanova explained. "Or, alternately, crying your eyes out that he's gone. I'm the one who is supposed to think about all the logistics. Truthfully, most of the food is eaten by the guests who bring it. What's left is supposed to help you through your private grief until you can get back to the world. Get your hands off of that. I'm the one who's putting it all away, and I have a system."

Delenn sighed, putting the container of food back down on the counter. "John enjoyed food as much as any other human did, although he always had a complaint about every culture. Narn food was too spicy, Centauri food was too 'rich', and he always reached for the salt when my back was turned any time I cooked for him. I don't think anyone made food that he actually liked the way it was prepared."

When they had finished putting away the leftovers, Delenn turned to Ivanova and asked, "What was funny about the doll story?"

"Ah," Ivanova said. "Well, it's not a story that I would normally tell in polite company."

Delenn nearly snorted. "You have been telling stories that _I_ would consider inappropriate since we started this...wake," she said, remembering the right word in time. "Why stop now?" 

"Well, all right," Ivanova said, taking a breath. "You know how Centauri male...anatomy works, right? That they have multiple...thingies?"

"I am aware of this, yes." Delenn nodded.

'Well, all the dolls were made without...those bits, and if you heard Londo fume about it, it was one of the worst insults someone could give to a Centauri man."

"Yes, Centauri men are very proud of their genitals. I still fail to see what is funny about it."

It took a while to explain human humor around the presence or absence of genitalia, and Delenn was still unconvinced it was actually funny, but Delenn did thank Ivanova for helping her understand why John had occasionally referred to extremely foolhardy decisions as "trying to penis-fence with a Centauri," so Ivanova called it a victory.

The rest of the night was spent with the Drazi delegation, who spoke glowingly of President Sheridan's business acumen and negotiation skills. Delenn was beginning to think that only those people that had directly interacted with John on a daily basis actually knew the kind of person he was.

When Delenn awoke on the fourth day, she was greeted by, the Ambassador of the Alliance to Minbar, and a much bigger delegation composed of members of the religious caste, seated in a circle.

"Captain Ivanova thought you might want a quiet day today," the Ambassador said. "We offer you meditation and silence, so as to focus your mind on the things you loved most about President Sheridan."

The day passed with the comforts of the rituals Delenn had grown up with and memorized long before coming to the station. There was joy and sadness in having enough of the members of her caste to perform the full rituals as if they were back on Minibar. Several times during the day, however, the silence inside was broken by muffled noises that sounded like Ivanova's voice, at least one time accompanied by a very solid thump against the door and an audible threat.

"You're lucky she's grieving, or I would plant my boot so far up your ass you would be able to taste the grain and what brand of polish I used on it!"

Delenn smiled as she remembered all of the inventive ways her husband found to express his displeasure with others. While some humans seemed to have a limited vocabulary, mostly related to biology, John had demonstrated a command of sometimes very confusing concepts. "The intelligence that God gave a brick," "the color coordination of a black and white photograph," and "the common sense granted a three year-old," the last one often used in conjunction with both Ambassadors G'kar and Mollari, were all things her husband would refer to when expressing his frustrations about the day. And, just as often, some sort of business would interrupt their meals and make it difficult to have private time together. Even now, so close to the decommissioning of the station that caused such problems, Babylon 5 refused to give her a full day peace and quiet.

Before she turned in for the night, Delenn thanked Ivanova for the day of rest and asked about what the commotion had been.

"Well, supposedly, the day of rest was the seventh day," Ivanova quipped back at her, making a reference that Delenn realized later came from a human religious story of creation. That it was the fifth day of mourning confused Delenn until she understood what Ivanova had meant about a day of rest.

"Don't worry about it," Ivanova continued. "Some people thought they wanted to get started on the decommissioning earlier than the official schedule planned. It was a little like the old times on the station, before we all got old and bureaucratic. I understand more now why Zack didn't want any lit flames."

Delenn slept with dreams and memories that night.

The next day's rituals and visitations involved the rest of the Minbari delegations - the warrior caste were perfunctory, the worker caste seemed more interested in the ships than in stories, and the Rangers wanted to discuss business with Delenn and Ivanova, earning them more than a few stern looks from the latter. When they weren't trying to get work done, though, the Rangers all had stories of personal inspections and speeches, of crises of confidence that Ranger One had taken time to talk them through, and a couple of very high-ranking Rangers confessed to times where they had voiced their doubts about his leadership without knowing he was listening and been surprised when he had promoted them to higher positions based on what he called "well-thought criticism" of his actions.

"John always liked to surround himself with people who thought differently than he did," Delenn said in response. "He believed that the best policies came out of very contentious debates where everyone had an opportunity to be heard. He also told me that he wanted to keep the people who disliked him the most closest to him, so that neither he nor them could do anything to hurt the other without someone noticing."

It wasn't necessarily wisdom, but the Rangers took it as such, anyway. Delenn thought John would have enjoyed having some part of his words lasting longer than the memories of those closest to him.

The sixth day involved meeting most of the rest of the Alliance's members and delegations, who had come for the decommissioning. They, too, had stories - diplomacy, intrigue, and not a few times where they were grateful that the Alliance had come to their aid. Some were very proud of being kin of those that had intercepted missiles sent from the Shadows at the end of that war. Delenn understood their pride and grieved the loss of life that had been necessary. Ivanova was always present, deftly changing subjects or ushering the visitors along when it was apparent there was no more to talk about.

When Delenn had time to think about it, she realized that Ivanova had also been making sure Delenn ate on a regular basis, never had an empty cup, went to sleep at an appropriate time, and that she was seated comfortably and ready to receive guests. She truly had been talking care of the logistics while Delenn talked to everyone, and so well that Delenn hadn't noticed. Lennier would have been proud. Or possibly jealous, depending on whether or not he would have seen it as an intrusion on his duties.

The seventh day was the decommissioning ceremony. As President of the Alliance, Delenn had to give remarks about the importance of the station and all of its crew and inhabitants. She managed to read the speech she had written without wavering, despite the flood of memories. She was then able to let Ivanova handle the actual ceremony, as the highest-ranking member of the military in attendance, as she had let Ivanova handle the details of the seven days of ritual grief. When it was done, Delenn returned to her quarters and wept with the knowledge that another piece of John had just been destroyed. Then for having lost John again, and the hardship it had been knowing how long was left. And then for the happiness and the sadness that had been their relationship and marriage.

When she had finished, at least for that time, Ivanova was waiting in the receiving room of her quarters with a box of tissues.

"You had me worried for a bit," Ivanova said. "Most people don't make it through a wake without having a breakdown like that at least twice. Repressing it is never a good idea."

Delenn smiled at Ivanova, and the beginning of an idea began to take shape.

"Now that I am done with this wake," she said, "I am in need of a new leader for the Rangers. I believe I have a suitable candidate in mind..."

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the blue star for beta-ing this work. It's much better because of it.


End file.
